Restoration
by magentamom
Summary: Drake takes a direct approach. I know this is dark, but it was inspired by the Machiavellian aspect of Drake's character and a quote from Mrs.PhineasBogg's Voyager's Aide: The Road Not Taken. This is the first time I've ever done this ... so let me know.
1. Chapter 1

Oct. 12, 1982, Manhattan

Jeffrey Jones awoke with a start from the dream. It had started so pleasantly, as he played the part of the brave swashbuckler. But just as in his real life, it ended up a nightmare in which he was unable to save his parents. He cried out softly as he awoke, but, unsurprisingly, the only one to notice was Ralph, his dog and his only real companion in this place.

Aunt Elizabeth and her boyfriend, Tom, continued their argument in the next room.

"I just don't want him to ruin our trip to Cancun," Jeffrey heard Tom say. Opening the door, he heard Aunt Elizabeth, as always, complaining about being "saddled with an 11-year-old kid.

"Why did Bill and Kathy have to die?" she asked.

So much for family affection, Jeff thought bitterly. But, he echoed her question. In his mind, though, the answer was obvious. Just as in the dream, he'd failed them. As a swashbuckling hero, he couldn't stop the soldiers. As a boy, he couldn't get his parents out of the burning camper, and he couldn't find help. He looked at a picture of his smiling family, and the guilt came pouring back. He shouldn't be here to ponder this. He should have died with them, leaving Aunt Elizabeth and Tom free for their trip and him free of this misery. The only one who might have cared was Ralph.

Jeffrey sat on his bed, holding his knees to his chest and put his head down. Ralph softly licked the boy's hand.

A whistling sound – unlike the wind he'd been hearing – caused him to look up, and he watched, shocked, as a glass cutter made a neat circle in the pane of glass in this high-rise window. It was carefully pushed to the floor, making not a sound as it hit the carpeting. Jeff's eyes grew large, but he couldn't make a sound, either.

Ralph growled lowly, but stayed by his boy, ready to defend him.

A man, dark-haired and with dark eyes, stepped into the room from the ledge. He wore a suit that looked to be from the 1800s, complete with cravat. He looked contemptuously at Jeffrey.

"This is why I'd never be a field worker. That could have killed me. I'm glad I was prepared," he said. "So, this is 1982, and this is Jeffrey Jones."

Jeff continued to stare, but he was too numb to move.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" Jeff asked. He wanted to scream, but his voice came out hollow.

Ralph on the other hand had no hesitation as he snarled and jumped at the man, who used the glass cutter to slit the dog's throat.

That roused Jeff from his shock, and he ran at the man, "You hurt Ralph. You killed my dog!" He ran at the man.

Drake stepped neatly out of the way, watching as the boy hurtled through the window. He stood a moment, hearing screams from stories below, within a few moments, he heard the sound of sirens.

He smiled, patted a black leather book, and muttered to himself, "it wasn't so difficult to hold on to this, Bogg. You should have tried harder. It was only a dog and one small boy."

Suddenly, Drake heard pounding on the door in the next room and a voice shouting, "Elizabeth, your nephew, he …"

It was time to go. Drake had trial briefs to prepare. He looked with disgust realizing the filthy dog had gotten blood on his immaculate white shirt. He'd need to change. And, with that thought, he hit the button on his omni.


	2. Chapter 2

Oct. 10, 1492

Voyager Phineas Bogg pulled back Captain Columbus from the side of the ship just before the wave struck. His guidebook told him this man had to reach San Salvador, and Bogg was determined to make sure that happened. It was his job, and he was good at it.

Green light. Now, to make sure it all worked out before his next assignment, whatever that might be.

After a week onboard the Santa Maria, "Crewman" Bogg slipped below deck, twisted the dials on the omni, and set out for Oct. 12, 1492. He'd miss this time he'd spent onboard a ship once again, but once he knew his work was done, it was time to move on.

Somewhere in time

Bogg felt as disoriented as he had when he first began voyaging. The trip seemed wrong somehow, as if he were being pulled in a different direction than the lights ahead, as if the time continuum had shifted unexpectedly, perhaps. He speculated in this in-between time, but it was over in seconds.

When he reached his destination, landing on the beach in San Salvador, he was nauseated and uneasy. He checked the omni, and tried to shake it off. Something had seemed off, but that was for the physicist types at headquarters to worry about. He preferred field work, and he had some of that left to do on this mission.

"San Salvador, Oct. 12, 1492," he said to himself, nodding with satisfaction. "This is the right place. I just need to be sure Columbus lands, and I'm on my way. Maybe I should think about field stripping this thing at the next stop."

He unobtrusively stepped back into the trees. It wouldn't do for his former shipmates to know he'd "beaten" them here. No matter how persuasive a Voyager might be – and Bogg was persuasive -- that would be too hard to explain. He grinned, as much as he'd love sailing for the adventure, he had never dreamed of anything like what he was doing now.

Bogg saw the ships approach land, watched as the sailors reached the shore in their small boats and began to look around. Bogg himself took one last look at the omni and said quietly, "Green light." But his usual sense of satisfaction was missing. Rather than feeling that sense of accomplishment and satisfaction the green light usually triggered, he just felt … lonely. And for some reason, as he watched Columbus and his crew examine the "New World," he felt a tremendous sense of grief.

He looked at his guidebook.

"Maybe I picked up on how all this worked out for the natives in one of those classes, even if Susan was more interesting," he laughed to himself as he shook his head.

Closing the book, he sighed at the dry rendition of these events, but he knew it never led him wrong in giving history a little push where it was needed. Still, it seemed like the writers could have been more enthusiastic, even curious about these topics.

Puzzled at his melancholy, he pressed the button on the omni. It was definitely time to go. The best part of the job was looking forward to the people he could meet and help in some other time, and he figured that was the best remedy for whatever had triggered this strange mood.


	3. Chapter 3

Oct. 12, 1450 B.C. Egypt

"Bat's Breath!" Bogg yelled as he pulled out of the reeds in which he'd landed. He shouldn't complain, really, the landing had been softer than many, if wet. Still, it seemed as if the omni might put him in a nice dry, safe haystack once in a while.

He stood and started to assess his surroundings. His initial thought remained the same: "Wet!"

Then he heard something, the sound of an animal, perhaps? He crouched, prepared for anything, and it repeated, a soft "mew."

"Oh, well, not much of an animal, then," he thought. And he grinned, the expression fading only when he saw the baby in a tiny cradle caught in the reeds.

He opened the omni. Red light. Of course, and a baby in the middle of the reeds was almost assuredly related. He wished headquarters actually read those questionnaires. No kids, no dogs, lots of lovely ladies, seafaring preferred, battles acceptable. Was it so much to ask that they assigned him to history that played to his strengths? The Columbus gig made it only about two in 10, and there were no lovely ladies involved. He hadn't even needed to meet the storied Queen Isabella, who even past her prime might have been worth a look.

He sighed; in any event, he had a job to do.

"Egypt, Oct. 12, 1450 B.C.," he read from the Omni. He licked a finger and flicked through the guidebook. The sooner he figured this out, the sooner he could get onto assignments with no babies involved.

The baby began to wail. Bogg picked him up: "Shhhh, shhhh. Hey, little guy, there's no telling what's happening here yet. You might want to be quiet and not draw attention," Bogg whispered, rocking the child.

The child cooed happily, mercifully quietly, and began chewing on Bogg's vest. Bogg started paging all the faster, but found himself rocking in a rhythm to soothe the child.

"Egypt, Egypt, ohhhh, here it is. Moses. Foundling of the Pharaoh's daughter. Left in a reed cradle in the Nile."

Bogg read it again. "Left in a reed cradle in the Nile." He'd love to be rid of the nuisance chewing on his vest, but … wouldn't the kid drown? The guidebook said otherwise, but Bogg looked around to be certain. Not far off, he saw a tent adorned with gold. This is apparently where baby Moses was supposed to head.

Bogg sighed, removed the baby from its comfortable position on his vest and wrapped him back in the blanket in which he'd found him. After settling the infant as safely as possible into the "boat" that was his cradle, Bogg pushed it into the Nile and held his breath as the child sailed toward his destiny.

He opened the omni, but couldn't bring himself to press the button until he saw Moses safely in the arms of Pharaoh's daughter.

Bogg chided himself, "Time waits for no man, so why I am I still here?" He was unprepared for the thought: "It waits now and then for the boy." What the hell did that even mean? In any event, this boy Moses was settled where he needed to be.

Green light, why did it feel so wrong?


	4. Chapter 4

Voyager Headquarters

Daniel Lang sighed and swirled the tea left in his nearly empty cup, reflecting on the data he'd just reviewed.

"Time to start a diagnostic, get more tea and start again," he thought. "Because this result is not possible."

He chuckled, thinking that two years ago he would have said the same of time travel and the whole crazy job of monitoring these Voyagers. But crazy job or no, the data in the Omnitron still had predictable results, and this was well outside of them.

"A malfunction, maybe. Or maybe I just need to take a break and hit it again," he muttered, running his fingers through thick black hair.

An hour later, Dan banged his desk, rattling the once again empty cup. "This makes no sense at all," he yelled.

It was time to take this to the boss, and Dan hated taking unsolved puzzles to the boss, probably as much as she hated seeing them. But there was no denying something was seriously wrong, either with the Omnitron or in the time stream. And he was going to need a support staff to figure that out.

"No time like the present," he said, gathering his data into a neat folder and heading for the office of Mischa Barron.

"Morning, Mischa," he said, tapping on the frame of her open door.

"Good morning, Dan," she looked up, saw his face and asked, "What's the matter?"

Dan was not one to look concerned about much. He enjoyed his work, monitored his data and kept good track of "his" Voyagers and their assignments. He never considered that a problem didn't have a solution, and he'd found them many times. But this morning, his brow was deeply furrowed.

"We have a problem. I've brought the data, and see …"

Mischa glanced at the file, "Dan, it looks as if assignments are being completed – Columbus, Moses, airplanes, Eddie Rickenbacker and Mary Murphy; history has a green light and …

She continued looking and whistled softly through her teeth.

"Voyagers can't have red lights; their personal histories were set when they were selected," she said.

"Exactly," said Dan. "But this Voyager does, and I have no idea what it could mean.

"History seems on track, but Phineas Bogg is way off of his."

Mischa sighed. "I'll get you people. Keep working on it. If necessary, we'll recall him, but his red light doesn't seem to be affecting the rest of the time stream, so we'll leave it for now. It might be a malfunction on our end."

Dan nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to rub the tension away. This was going to be a long day, or more likely several of them.


	5. Chapter 5

Voyagers Headquarters: Courtroom

Susan looked at her client. Barbara Allison was an excellent Voyager with a previously spotless record. It was ridiculous that anyone would believe the woman attempted to push Jane Austen in front of a carriage in a jealous rage.

Barbara still wore an empire-waist green muslin; her dark hair was in Regency-style curls and a neat bonnet. She'd been recalled without even being allowed to retrieve her own clothing, purely on Drake's word.

Drake had prosecuted 23 cases and gotten convictions in each one. The omni, he said, didn't lie. Susan was doubtful the same could be said of him, but there was no proof. He was growing in power, sending more and more good Voyagers into exile.

"If he didn't have all the time in the world to choose from, we'd run out of islands," she thought ruefully.

She and Barbara had put on a defense, but even Susan had to admit Drake had undermined it masterfully. Barbara pointed out that Miss Austen was unharmed and completed her manuscript for "Sense and Sensibility" without further issue. Barbara also insisted that she had leapt in to save Miss Austen from the carriage.

Drake snorted in derision. "Voyager Allison, look at the omni record. That is decidedly untrue. We *saw* you push her into the street.

"Was your young gentleman worth this violation of the Voyager code? Or are you simply arguing that 'all's well that ends well?' That you failed to kill or injure Miss Austen does not change that you tried."

Professor Brindle nodded. "Voyager Allison, yours would be a hard argument to defend given the proof. You might wish to reconsider lying to the Tribunal."

Susan wished Professor Garth were on this case, but the busy judges were dividing them up. And they were only getting busier and busier as Drake continued his efforts to "clean up" the Voyager profession.

Susan watched their faces as the members of the Tribunal returned and braced herself for the obvious announcement.

Professor Brindle, head judge for this case, declared: "Voyager Allison, you have violated the Voyager Code and nearly changed the course of history. Your failure does not excuse this behavior. We, with great regret, must announce your banishment from the Voyager program and sentence you to exile on an island where you can do no further harm to the time stream." The gavel rattled loudly.

Barbara inhaled, nodded at Susan and whispered: "Thank you. I know you tried. Goodbye, Susan. Don't let him win."

And, with that, Voyager Barbara Allison was gone. Zapped not out of existence -- so far, the Tribunal had not reinstated a death penalty – but sent to a prison of loneliness, lost in a time and place where no one could find her.

Susan drew in her breath. It would be unprofessional to weep.

Drake, looking even more smug than usual, left the courtroom with a bow in Susan's direction.

Susan sighed, closed her eyes and thought "24 of 24. How is he setting up these show trials? And who's next?"


	6. Chapter 6

Voyager Headquarters: Research Conference Room

Mischa had taken the situation seriously. Within an hour, Dan was addressing his team on the situation.

"Let's just jump in to the meat of the problem: We have a Voyager, in the field, with a red light on his history," Dan started.

Wendy Freud, a plump blonde with a sweet face and enormous talent for omni coding, laughed. "Come on, Doc, that's impossible."

"Wendy, from now on, I think we will have to modify that to 'highly improbable,' " Dan said in a low voice. "Because it's happened."

Wendy's jaw dropped in disbelief, but she sat back quietly in her chair.

Trixie Mahoney, a young strawberry blonde whose research skills were well known in the organization, popped the gum in her mouth in surprise. "Sorry," she muttered.

The last member of the team – Jeptha Smithyman – just watched, letting his brows sink into his dark eyes. The tall, slender African-American was their tracker, recently retired from fieldwork. If anyone was going to understand the consequences of a red light for an agent, it was him.

They quietly waited for more information. And Dan sincerely wished he had much more to give them. But, for now …

He clicked the lights and the mouse.

"This," he said, "is Phineas Bogg, and while his missions have been going smoothly, his own history has a red light. And no, I don't have any answers on how that could happen. That's why you're here."


	7. Chapter 7

Voyager Headquarters: Omnitron Center

"It could be a malfunction of the Omnitron. That seems the most logical explanation, Doc," Wendy posited. "Seriously, for hundreds of years, no Voyager has managed to change his or her own history. It just can't happen."

Dan sighed. "That could be, Wendy, and you're here to check into it. But evidence, for now is that it *did* happen. So, we're going to monitor and try to figure it out."

"OK, Doc, I'll look for the glitch, and with luck, we'll all be out by lunchtime and back to the routine," Wendy smiled. "And Phineas Bogg can get back to making right what once went wrong. Personally, I'm happier tinkering with the machinery than the lives."

"Let's not forget that we all are tinkering with lives, we know that no matter our role in this organization. In this case, that life is one of our own. Got it?" Dan replied.

"Trixie, I need you to look for any evidence of glitches in Bogg's history. Places he might have been assigned but wasn't, anything unusual surrounding his original time zone or any of his voyages. Big, small, look at everything."

"Jeptha, you need to keep an eye on Bogg. If his red light starts interfering with the time stream, we need to know immediately. We don't need this to spread, whatever it is."

The team nodded. Wendy approached the Omnitron and started a deeper diagnostic. Trixie took a pile of books and a laptop as she started to research the adventures of Phineas Bogg. Jeptha just watched the dials and pondered if Bogg even knew there was a problem. So far, Bogg was continuing to voyage, green lights all the way. Maybe Wendy was right and this was a misreading on their end. Bogg seemed unaware of a problem.

"And then don't all the folks in history who are facing disaster," Jeptha thought. A sudden chill went down his spine: a Voyager with a red light on his own history, as if the job wasn't challenging enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Nov. 13, 1692, Salem, Massachusetts Colony

Bogg groaned. Stupid rock! Gladiators, Billy the Kid … it had been a very busy week, or millennium, he still wasn't sure how to define this stuff after years (or was it decades). Again …

And he still couldn't shake this sense of uneasiness. He chided himself: "Green lights all the way, Bogg. Get it together. Time waits for no man." He refused to let himself think about his strange sense of loss or why he would ever think time would wait for a boy. He'd been one. If anything, it's that boys didn't wait for time. In any event, there was a job to do, always a job to do. Those didn't wait, either.

He looked up and suddenly realized what that was. "Well, there is a lovely lady and a possible battle. We're even near the water. Maybe they reviewed my questionnaire," he thought, amused at the thought anyone would bother. Headquarters obviously threw you where they threw you. "We should have a union, maybe vacation days," he thought.

He heard a final word of prayer from the beautiful blonde standing in front of him.

And then: "Behold the power of God, Satan. You are impotent in the face of our Lord!"

That voice was distinctly not the blonde's. Who was this guy? And why did he think he had God's ear?

"I really think this is just a misunderstanding," Bogg smiled.

The blonde ran to him, "Please help, they'll kill me."

Bogg grabbed her arm, helping her up a stony incline.

"Does this lead anywhere?" Bogg asked. "I'm not sure," she replied. "So, she's not sure," he muttered to himself. He had no better immediate ideas, though, so he cleared the way, throwing witch hunters down the slope, several into the water. He and the blonde reached the passageway.

They dashed in to find the witch hunters in front, and, almost immediately, behind.

"Surrender to the Lord, Satan," proclaimed one of the leaders, holding his Bible up in triumph.

Bogg looked around but saw no escape.


	9. Chapter 9

Nov. 13, 1692, Salem Prison

Bogg looked at the omni. "Nov. 13, 1692. So, Friday?" Bogg asked.

"It is," replied the blonde.

"It figures."

"I'm Phineas Bogg, and you are?"

"I am Abiah Folger. I had planned soon to be Abiah Franklin, but the events here seem to have prevented that. I wonder what Josiah will hear, and when. He's already lost a wife; I suppose he will survive this of a fiancée."

"Today we stand trial. Tomorrow, you and I will meet our maker," she said softly. "That is the pattern."

Bogg carefully wrapped his arm around the distraught young woman. "Hey, you know, we can't be sure of that, and I'm sure that Josiah wouldn't take this as lightly as you're pretending."

Abiah looked at him thoughtfully. "You are a kind soul, Phineas Bogg. But even you can't change the future. Unless it is true, art thou from heaven?"

Bogg shook his head, but continued, "We haven't done anything."

"And will that save us, Phineas Bogg?" she asked. "It has not the others."

Bogg turned and went back to the corner where he could look at his guidebook. "Folger … Franklin …" Abiah Folger, b. Aug. 15, 1667, mother of Benjamin Franklin."

"Benjamin Franklin," Bogg thought. "I met him in France, and … oh, this is not good."

The prisoners were soon marched to their trial, where they heard the charges against them. Bogg, shackled, watched in horror as the bailiff took the omni from his belt.

"If this is not an object of Satan, then God is not in his heaven above," the man shouted, opening the object and showing its blinking red light to the people gathered in the church. Several screamed, the little girls the loudest of the.

"The witch burneth me!" yelled a dark-haired girl.

A defense was out of the question, as "there is no defense for crimes against the Lord."

"I hope they're right," Bogg thought to himself. "Because killing people in His name has to be one of the worst."

And the sentencing: Fire, hanging. This court had little mercy. Bogg found himself glad that no one who truly cared about him was here to see this.

At midnight, as promised, he was marched to the stake. He hugged Abiah, "take care of yourself and …" something seemed to be missing, but Bogg figured it wouldn't matter for long, not much would.

He remembered, years ago, asking Professor Garth if a Voyager could die. The old man was blunt: "You're flesh and blood Phineas, all that makes you special is that omni."

And certainly, he felt no more special than the many "witches" burned, buried and hung in these trials. Just like all the other witches, he'd done nothing to deserve this. They had that in common.

Knowing that he was innocent offered little comfort as the heat scorched his skin with radiant burns and the smoke cost him oxygen. But he remembered enough from his academy anatomy classes to know he would become unconscious long before he actually burned to death. Who knew that could sound so encouraging?

Bogg drifted out of consciousness knowing that he had failed Abiah, and therefore failed Benjamin Franklin and all of history. But his last thought was that he'd failed the boy. "What boy?" he choked, his last sound as he slipped into unconsciousness and his head lolled to his neck.


	10. Chapter 10

Voyager Headquarters, Research Lab

Trixie Maloney shook her head as she looked at the laptop. She wasn't sure how this data it could have anything to do with this project. Nonetheless, the Omnitron seemed to be guiding her, repeatedly, to the tragic and mysterious death of a little boy well outside of Bogg's timeline.

"Stupid machine," she muttered sadly as she shuddered at the images in front of her. "I didn't want to see something like this the *first* time."

"Wendy," she called over. "Are you finding anything in that diagnostic, because this machine just keeps leading me in circles that seem to have nothing to do with …"

Her thoughts were cut off as Jeptha yelled out: "We have a more immediate problem! Dan, you have to come now."

Dan took a look at the readings and slammed the desk.

He grabbed his communicator, tapped a key and shouted: "Mischa, I need immediate authorization for recall! Repeat: immediate authorization!"

"OK, Dan, calm down, I'm on it," Mischa's voice crackled through the device. "You should have the OK … now."

Dan looked at the readings again. He hoped now was soon enough.

"Jeptha! Get him out. Pull the omni ...

"And get someone else in there right away! A man and his "talisman" disappearing into thin air is not going to stop those damned trials!"

Even in this chaos, the Voyager code dictated that Dan's top priority be to preserve the timeline. "Let's hope we didn't lose one of our own in doing it," he thought.

He silently questioned why he didn't insist on calling Bogg back as soon as the red light appeared, but it wasn't worth second guessing Mischa or himself. The important thing was to get this Voyager back, hopefully in one piece, and figure out what was going on.

Phineas Bogg was not going back into the field until Daniel Lang understood exactly what had happened. This was one of his Voyagers, and Dan took his role as monitor and protector seriously.

A bronze omni clattered to the floor, followed quickly by a red-faced, unconscious Phineas Bogg, who fell over promptly without the ropes binding him to the stake.


	11. Chapter 11

Voyager Headquarters,

"Medical, medical, now in Omnitron Control," Trixie yelled into the communicator. "With oxygen!"

She'd immediately noticed that underneath the redness of the burns, Phineas Bogg was turning slightly blue. Still when she rushed over, she found he was breathing, if marginally, and had a pulse. No need for CPR just yet, but she hoped medical would make it quick.

"Hey, Phineas, right? Wish I'd been able to meet you under better circumstances … but it's all going to be OK."

Trixie was less than sure of that as she looked at the man's shallow breathing. And even if he was physically OK, the problem of his timeline remained.

"It's just what you say; who really knows?" she thought.

She'd been the closest, but Dan, Wendy and Jeptha were there in seconds.

"He's breathing and has a pulse, so where there's life there's hope, right?" Trixie said. The others nodded. There wasn't much to do right at the moment.

Trixie was troubled by what she'd just watched, but she still knew her job: "Dan, once medical is through, I think we need a team meeting."

The medics arrived, with oxygen. After several breaths, Phineas Bogg opened his eyes and looked around.

"Where is my kid?" he asked. They looked on mutely, except for Trixie, who answered: "We're working on it. Get better, and we'll talk."

The rest of her team stared at her dumbfounded. As the medics settled Bogg on a gurney and wheeled him from the room, Dan turned to her.

"Trix, it might be time for that meeting," he said with a glare. "Wendy, Jeptha …"


	12. Chapter 12

Voyager Headquarters, Daniel Lang's office

"So you told him 'We're working on it,' " Dan said, looking at Trixie. "What exactly are we working on?"

"Dan, I know, and I should have brought this to you sooner, but it just didn't make any sense. And until he asked about a kid I thought it was just another glitch for Wendy to look into. Because this isn't in Bogg's timeline or even within reach of his omni, but …," Trixie took a deep breath, "I think that this is Bogg's 'kid.' "

She passed around a photo of a little boy with curly dark hair and deep dark eyes. "Jeffrey Jones.

"He died Oct. 12, 1982 in Manhattan."

Dan inhaled deeply. "I hate to sound insensitive, Trixie, but children die every day in Manhattan and every other neighborhood of every city on the globe, what is giving us a red light here?"

"My records show Jeffrey Jones isn't supposed to die, at least not really. He did disappear from the main time stream on that date, but the Voyager archives are Swiss cheese without him. That's why it hit Voyager Bogg's timeline and gave us our first red light for a field operative. This 'kid' is supposed to do great things, and apparently, at least at first, with Phineas Bogg."

Trixie sighed, "But it gets worse. Read the police reports. The problem in the timeline seems to come from one of our own."

The team silently read accounts of the death of Jeffrey Jones and then moved into chronicles of what he might have done as a Voyager. Dan shook his head.

"I'll take this to the Council, and I guess, when the time comes, I'll have to sit down with Phineas Bogg and explain it again. And God have mercy on the soul of whoever set this up, because from what I'm reading, I doubt Bogg will have much."

"I don't have much myself," said Wendy. "I'm going to see if the Omnitron can give me a take on what should have happened."

Dan nodded. "Trix, you keep looking for records of how Voyager Bogg might have ended up in a kid's high-rise bedroom in 1982, and Jeptha, maybe you could check on our wayward Voyager."

"Sure thing, Boss," the tall man nodded. "A recall is always a bad situation, but this …"

"Yeah, this is worse," Dan said, putting his head in his hands. Then he gathered up the files. Mischa, first, then the Council. And then … It would likely take Bogg several days to recover, but Dan already was dreading that meeting.


	13. Chapter 13

Voyager Headquarters: Drake's apartment

Drake laughed out loud as he poured himself a neat measure of brandy. It was going well. He was up to 27 banished Voyagers, with more sure to come. He was fairly certain he was starting to overcome even the concerns of the upright Professor Garth.

Bogg's trial would have to wait, and Drake was a bit disappointed. But Bogg was something of the hero of the hour, surviving the witch trials. As if failing in a mission was somehow laud worthy.

No matter, though. People feared Drake: He could see it in the eyes of even his fellow lawyers. "It is better to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both," he recalled from his study of Machiavelli.

Love was fickle, and it's all Bogg had.

Later on, there was plenty of time to "find" something in the hero's omni. And, honestly, without the little brat by his side, Bogg was less of a threat. Something about that boy brought out what some might call the best in Bogg, those seven deadly virtues. But the boy was dead, in 1982 Manhattan, and Drake was feeling jubilant. It had been so simple. And with an untraceable omni, it was completely unrelatable to Drake. It might be fun to be sure the record eventually showed it was *Bogg* who endangered the child all along. He had plenty of time to ponder the best way to do just that.

In any event, the death of one little boy in a huge city was unlikely to ever draw any attention anyway. Perhaps his poor aunt had just had too much or an abusive boyfriend had taken things into his own hands. Even Drake admitted the dog might have been a step over the top, but it did make things go more smoothly, and a dislike of dogs might be the only trait he shared with Bogg. He did regret the ruined shirt. He'd had to dispose of it once it became clear nothing would remove the stains.

Bogg was barely breathing and made a fool of himself in Salem. His days as a hero were numbered, and Drake was more than willing to step in as the upholder of the Code. That's what should matter: The letter, not the spirit, of the law. Those who said differently misunderstood the concept of law. Law was about the power to enforce it, and Drake was rapidly building up that power.

He licked the tip of his pen as he described his latest trial in tiny, precise script. "Case file: Voyager Isaac Wolfstein: Closed." He wasn't sure it had been entirely worth going after a retired Voyager, but the man was something of a legend. It had been entertaining to tarnish that halo. As he'd explained to the Tribunal, if the law were not enforced just because the man was in retirement, then the law had no meaning at all. And, after all, it was clear he tried to con a passing Voyager into removing him from his assigned time.

"Tsk, tsk, 'Wildman.' You know that's not allowed," Drake said, drawing the man's nickname into a curse and smiling.

Drake read back his account and, satisfied, tucked it into his copy of "The Prince."


	14. Chapter 14

Voyager Headquarters: Daniel Lang's office

It had been several days since Bogg's recall, and Dan sat quietly awaiting the younger man's arrival in his office. Bogg walked in with a determined stride. Dan noticed that the radiant burns remained, giving the pirate the appearance of sunburn.

"Voyager Bogg, thank you so much for coming," Dan ventured, standing and holding out his hand. "I hope you're recovered. You gave us quite the scare."

"They told me this meeting was a prerequisite for returning to field work, so no thanks are necessary," Bogg replied coldly, his voice began to rise. He ignored the outstretched hand. "What is going on here? I realize I had to be pulled, and that is all the sorts of embarrassing you might expect. But I'm not the first, and I'm unlikely to be the last." Bogg's voice had risen to a yell, his hands had formed fists, and while he knew that mightn't help him, he didn't care at the moment. "Stripped of my omni for that!?"

"Voyager Bogg, I assure you that your recall is not the reason you are not back in the field, at least not directly. You're not being punished," Dan said. "It's, well, it's rather complicated."

"Complicated," Bogg yelled. "You give me the omni; I go out and work to make history right! Maybe here in the ivory tower you don't recognize that!"

Daniel sighed. "We do Voyager Bogg. We do. And your work has been exemplary. We know now that even the last mission's unfortunate conclusion was not due to lack of effort on your part. It was … well, not as it was supposed to be."

"Tell me something I don't know. That's every mission," Bogg replied.

"True enough," Dan might have laughed if what he needed to tell Bogg wasn't so horrific to share. "This will be difficult, but I need you to look at some things."

Dan pulled out the folder filled with news articles, crime scene photos and other items related to Jeffrey Jones. Trixie and Wendy had been busy for several days, reconstructing both this red timeline and the one that should have been.

"Can you please look through these and tell me if you recognize anything?"

The first item Bogg picked up was a photo of a broken body. He might have thought it a doll if not for the "Crime Scene: Do Not Cross" tape around the form. Curly dark hair, a shirt, probably striped, but Bogg could not make out the colors, dark pants and a single sneaker. Bogg noticed the other lay off to the side of the scene. The chalk line was already in place around the body. Bogg felt sick.

"I don't know exactly what happened to him, but I couldn't recognize this if it was my own kid," Bogg growled. "You know, I've been at this a while, and I didn't need the visual aide."

A lump formed in Bogg's throat, and he wanted to run. He didn't want to look at the photo again, and yet his eyes were drawn to it. What had happened to that poor kid? And how frightened must he have been as he fell?

"I'm sorry, Voyager Bogg. Please read the article that goes along with the scene, though," Dan asked. "It's really vital that you understand."

Bogg finished the reading.

"So, an orphan plummets to his death from 20 stories. I'm not trying to say that's not a terrible thing, but what does it have to do with me? My omni doesn't even get me to 1982. I mean, this is an awful story, but I don't see what it has to do with me, my omni or field work."

Now all Bogg could think was how to get this meeting over with and leave this room. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to weep. He wanted to bang a wall in the pure, cold frustration of knowing that this child was dead and there was nothing Bogg could do. None of those seemed likely to get him back in the field, so he just seethed internally and looked warily at Daniel.

"In this case, Voyager Bogg, you were supposed to be in 1982 and in the bedroom of Jeffrey Jones," Dan said forcefully.

"So I was supposed to throw the kid out of a window for a 20-story fall? I know my questionnaire says I don't like kids, but c'mon. And besides, my omni won't take me to 1982; we just went over that."

"Voyager Bogg, please read the details again, and how the police ruled out the aunt and her boyfriend as suspects. I know this is difficult, but we really do need your help on this one."

Bogg frowned. The glass was cut from the *outside* of a 20-story window; a dog was killed, apparently using the same weapon; the child seemed to almost rush for the window; and no attacker was ever heard or seen. Elizabeth Jones said at the time, "It seemed like whoever might have been there just … disappeared."

Bogg looked at Daniel with an intense stare, "You think this was a Voyager?"

Dan's darker blue eyes met Bogg's icy ones: "We do. What we know, however, is that Jeffrey Jones is supposed to be with you, as your partner. You are supposed to be his mentor and a guardian and friend to the boy."

Bogg snorted, "I work alone, and if I had to have a partner, it wouldn't be an 11-year-old kid."

"OK, then," Dan said with a nod. "By the way, do you recall your last words before losing consciousness after your recall from 1692?"

Bogg's head and stomach seemed to roll over, because despite all reason, he did remember. " 'Where is my kid?' I didn't even know what I meant. I was out of my head. Near asphyxiation will do that, you know."

"Or perhaps you were in your right mind for the first time since the timescape was altered. You'll need to think on that. And here is a picture of Jeffrey Jones before his fall."

With that, Daniel moved to leave the room. He turned, "You're welcome to stay here for as long as you'd like and review anything you wish."

Bogg sat, staring at the photo. With his crooked smile that didn't reach the dark eyes clearly still haunted by his parents' death, Jeffrey Jones was a handsome child, and one whose time had been unfairly cut short. "It waits now and then for the boy," Bogg thought, and he started to cry.


	15. Chapter 15

Voyager Headquarters, Omnitron Control

Daniel Lang leaned back against the office door as he closed it and let out his breath.

Jeptha walked up and put a hand on Dan's shoulder, "How'd it go?

"OK, I guess," Dan replied. "I've turned a Voyager's entire life upside down, and it's not even time for lunch yet."

"You know, Dan, Bogg's in the field," Jeptha said. "He'll come around. Fixing history is what he does, and it's clear that this needs fixing."

Dan nodded. "I know, but the look on his face when I showed him those pictures. Jep, honestly, I don't know how he kept it together. Clearly, he knows something is wrong, probably has since that Columbus mission."

Dan turned, "Trix, Wendy, do we have certainty on that? It was during the Columbus mission that the changes in 1982 triggered the red light?"

"As certain as we can be, Doc," Wendy replied. "But I still can't find a record of any omni making a trip to the room of Jeffrey Jones in 1982. Not Bogg's, which should have, but not anyone else's either."

"So, it was some other mysterious being who could materialize on a ledge 20 stories up, kill a dog and a boy who happens to have ties to the organization and then just disappear into thin air?" asked Trixie. "I'm sorry, Wendy, but that's straining credibility."

"Trixie, I don't know," Wendy replied, frustrated. "I'm just telling you what the code is showing about this theory of yours, and it's not much."

Dan held up his hand, and spoke lowly but forcefully: "Enough. We have a red light on *two* Voyagers: One is dead – if we can try to keep that in mind -- and the other is in my office looking through information that would entitle anyone to a complete mental breakdown. We don't have time to bicker about finding a mystery omni."

"Right, Doc," Wendy replied quietly. "I'll get back to seeing how we can get Voyager Bogg into that room."

Trixie just nodded. It was easy to forget, in researching the tragedy of this little boy, that this wasn't about saving a random urchin in the time stream. Jeffrey Jones was a Voyager, or should have been, and his death was having ripples far beyond what would have been his natural lifespan. She tucked a strand of hair from her short bob behind her ear and went back to her files.


	16. Chapter 16

Voyager Headquarters – Daniel Lang's office

Bogg raised his head from his arms. The light in the room had changed. He wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, sobbing.

He looked again at the collection of photos: Jeffrey Jones' school portrait with the smile that failed to reach his eyes; the broken body; a dead dog still in snarling action to protect its master; the cut glass on the floor of the bedroom; a wedding picture of a couple Bogg had to assume, from the files, were Bill and Kathy Jones; a black-haired toddler whose face was so expressive Bogg could almost hear the giggle as the child raced after a puppy.

There was one of the aunt, leaving the police station, her eyes hidden by sunglasses and her mouth in a thin line. She was beautiful in her own way, but what Bogg noticed was that she seemed annoyed by the whole situation rather than grief-stricken that she'd somehow not met the trust of protecting a child left in her care. The boy's death was not her fault, Bogg knew, but still, no matter the circumstances, he'd expect some sort of emotion beyond irritation. He wasn't seeing it.

This team of Daniel Lang's had been very thorough. Bogg supposed he should be grateful. A good field worker still depended on the support team, or, well, he might end up on the barbecue menu in Salem.

"So you've pulled at my heartstrings," he muttered, reflecting not just on how horrible the boy's death appeared but how tragic the life before it. "Still makes no sense."

He reread the files, or what he could of them; the "restored" timeline was heavily redacted. "They're serious about this," Bogg thought. "They've removed anything that would let me know my exact role in this future."

Nonetheless, Bogg had to acknowledge there was enough here to establish that he somehow was supposed to be in that boy's room in 1982.

"So, I go and save the kid," he thought to himself. "I'll worry about the rest from there, but Council is just going to have to find another trainer. No matter what Lang and the rest think they found, I work alone."


	17. Chapter 17

Voyager Headquarters, Drake's apartment

Drake looked at the tiny chip he'd developed to "read" omni memories of those Voyagers whose own history seemed to need a little push. A push toward exile, he smiled.

It was time to prepare for his next trial, and he knew just the Voyager. With 30 convictions, Drake was confident he could tackle this 31st.

The whole thing was made simpler by Phineas Bogg's recall and apparent extended stay at headquarters. Clearly, the field worker was being investigated for something, and it would be easy enough to capitalize on that. What a shame for Bogg that his omni saved the record of him killing that child, and after he was so self-righteous upon discovering Drake's minor infractions in school.

"Tut, Bogg, we all know you don't like children or dogs, but this was beyond the pale," Drake thought with a laugh to himself. "The Tribunal will be horrified. I know I, personally, am absolutely appalled."

He leafed through the defense attorney assignments. "Susan. Oh, this day is getting better and better for me, and yours will come, too," he hissed. "You are so dedicated to helping these Voyagers who clearly weaken our ranks. Eventually, it will be clear you're working for the wrong side."

He made his notes in his fine, precise handwriting, and began the brief he would present to the Tribunal on the morrow.


	18. Chapter 18

Voyager Headquarters, Omnitron Control

"Voyager Bogg, for Pete's sake, this would go much more quickly without you trying to peek over my shoulder," Trixie snapped. "You know why you can't see this. You're a Voyager, and you know the rules. This is your history and you knowing too much of it …"

"Would change it, yeah, I get it," Bogg sulked, stretching his legs out onto the desk. "But I've been here for days, told I have a kid to save, and now you just have me sitting here waiting. I'm not a patient man. If the time stream is wrong, it seems to me we should be fixing it, not paging through books and computer files."

Jeptha intervened, "Hey, Phineas, let's go get some coffee or something. You know Trixie and Wendy are just doing their jobs, and the more you leave them to that, the sooner you can get to yours."

"Yeah, right, I've been hearing that for almost a week," Bogg sighed. But he walked off with Jeptha and headed for the refectory.

As they left the room, Jeptha turned, pointed at Bogg and mouthed "Still his tracker." Trixie laughed. Phineas Bogg in the field was constantly putting himself into tight spots, but he could usually get out of those on his own. Phineas Bogg confined to headquarters was just a tight spring ready to snap, and until all the research was done, there was no releasing that tension. Jeptha's success in retrieving Bogg just seemed to make his own job harder.

"Wendy, I think, despite Voyager Bogg's best efforts to delay me, I have a solid timeline here," Trixie called over. "Any luck on where exactly to pick it up?"

"It still looks like 1492. Somewhere between grabbing Columbus from the wave and landing on that beach in San Salvador," Wendy said. "And we still have the problem of how he's going to react knowing as much as he does."

"Yeah, well, we'll just have to let that play out," Trixie sighed. "Because we do know he has to be in that room, one way or another, or we have a dead Voyager in the case files. Have I ever mentioned how much I hate paradoxes?"

Wendy laughed. "Yeah, we all do, but they seem to be the pattern in this job. Let's just hope Bogg has good instincts."


	19. Chapter 19

Voyager Headquarters: Daniel Lang's office

Jeptha Smithyman came racing in. "Dan, he's been arrested. They came into the refectory and …"

Dan looked up, "Jep, settle down. Who's been arrested? What are you talking about?"

"Phineas Bogg," Jeptha replied. "They say Drake has evidence he killed that boy."

"Jeffrey Jones?" Dan asked. "That's impossible, given that we've long since established he never got to that room in 1982. And even if he had … everything in the records indicates if he did, he would become the boy's guardian, not his murderer. You know this."

"I know it, sure," Jeptha replied. "But does the Tribunal know it? Because the Time Patrol seemed right serious about this one."

Dan rubbed his temples. Drake was a powerful man at this point, and despite Dan believing he knew the time stream, maybe there was something to this. Could he have misjudged Bogg? The Voyager did have an unprecedented red light on his time line, and there wasn't any record of his travels to 1982 when everyone on the team acknowledged he must have been there. And someone clearly had appeared and disappeared 20 stories up without explanation. Could it be?

And then Dan recalled Bogg's eyes as he looked at the broken body of the child. He hadn't seen guilt there or any sort of relief, just indefinable and almost inexpressible grief. Phineas Bogg was either not in the right place at the right time or he was a hell of an actor. Dan was pretty sure it was the former.

"Jeptha, when is the trial?" Dan asked.

"Tomorrow, Dan. It's tomorrow. Justice is becoming more swift than sure these days, with Drake and his witch hunts."

"Right," Dan nodded. "But maybe this time, we can turn the tables."


	20. Chapter 20

Voyager Headquarters: Tribunal Courtroom

Susan glanced at her client, Phineas Bogg, an old classmate. She had to wonder when he'd last slept; his blue eyes looked sunken, and the spark she remembered was missing.

She explained the situation quickly. Bogg was on trial for the death of Jeffrey Jones, and this was the first trial in a millennium that would carry a death sentence. If convicted, Phineas Bogg would be sent back to his former ship at the moment he would have died if not selected as a Voyager.

"Look, Susan, I don't know Jeffrey Jones. I don't know what all of this is about. I'm just told I'm supposed to have saved him somehow, and now this," Bogg said. "You know, I feel horrible the more I read about this Jeffrey, but I still don't see how I'm supposed to have anything to do with this. And I just wanted to get back in the field and to save this kid, if that's what I'm supposed to do."

Susan nodded and frowned. Phineas Bogg wasn't her first client to express confusion as well as dismay at being in this courtroom. Since Drake had begun his campaign for order, she'd seen many good Voyagers sent into exile. This was her first capital case, and she hated to admit to herself that all she could think was that the prosecutor had 30 convictions for his 30 trials.

Professor Garth pounded the gavel, "Voyager Bogg, your omni, please."

"Sir, I haven't had it for a week …"

"Because he is under investigation for other various infractions of the code after a recall that nearly cost the life of the mother of Benjamin Franklin," Drake opined.

"That's a lie!" Bogg shouted. "I tried to save Abiah Folger, and …

Drake glanced at Bogg contemptuously and said, "Yes, yes, Voyager Bogg, you tried many things."

He turned back to the Tribunal, "I do have his omni here," Drake said as plugged the instrument into the reader.

"Now, gentlemen and gentleladies, I am filled with sorrow to show you this, but it is necessary to the case."


	21. Chapter 21

Voyager Headquarters: Tribunal Courtroom

Drake tapped a button on the omni in the reader. "As I said, I am sorry to have to show such a thing, but it is imperative you see the monster that is Phineas Bogg and make your decision accordingly."

With a respectful nod to the Tribunal, Drake stepped aside as the round screen above took on its resolution.

"This," Drake said, "is Jeffrey Jones' bedroom, 1982."

And there on the screen was a dark-haired boy, sitting on his bed, despondent. A whistling sound was quickly followed by the breaking of the glass window. And in stepped the unmistakable figure of Phineas Bogg. The dog leapt from the boy's side, grabbing Bogg's guidebook. The boy tried to hold the animal back and retrieve it, and then …

The boy stepped backward and fell through the window. The Phineas Bogg on the screen watched impassively and retrieved his guidebook with a kick to the dog's head. The one in the dock jumped up and screamed, "Jeffrey, no! No!" And Bogg jumped over the railing reaching for the boy, as if he could somehow catch him through the screen.

"A nice show of remorse," Drake said, looking contemptuously at the now hysterical Bogg, who held to the screen and continued to yell for the boy. "But I think we'd all agree it was too little and too late.

"The omni doesn't lie, Voyager Bogg. And it shows you for what you are, no need to try to impress the court with false heroics now."

Bogg slumped against the wall and slid to the floor. "Jeffrey. Oh, my God, Jeff, I'm so sorry," he whispered.


	22. Chapter 22

Voyager Headquarters: Tribunal Courtroom

"But …" Wendy said, watching the screen.

Dan nodded encouragement.

"Honorable Tribunal, if I might speak, please," she said, her voice sounding small in the courtroom.

Professor Garth turned from the dramatic scene at the front of the room to look at her.

"And you would be?" he asked.

"Wendy Freud, I work omni coding," she said, her voice rose as she gained a bit of confidence. "I've had reason to examine Voyager Bogg's omni for the past week, and I can vouch for this: Voyager Bogg never made it that room in 1982, at least not with that omni. It's the reason we've been studying it."

"Studying," said Professor Garth. "So, you're not entirely certain what occurred?"

"No, sir," Wendy acknowledged. "But I've taken that omni apart, put it back together and examined every record. That was not on it. I give my solemn oath."

Drake turned, giving the woman a dark look.

"Obviously, Ms. Freud, you missed it in your work," he said threateningly. "I'm sure the Tribunal can forgive an oversight, but don't perjure yourself here."

Wendy looked indignant. "I most certainly did not miss something critical to the very case we were working," she said angrily. "Mr. Drake, I don't know what you've done to that omni, but that record was not on it when I was asked to surrender it to Time Patrol yesterday."

She turned to the Tribunal, "May I see it?"

"This is ridiculous," Drake yelled. "The woman obviously is just embarrassed by her own inability to retrieve this information …"

Garth cut Drake off and gave him a cold glance. He then looked to Wendy. "Of course, Ms. Freud, if you think you might shed some light on this. This is, after all, your area of expertise," Garth said with a tone of authority and looked again at Drake. "It is not Mr. Drake's."

Wendy carefully stepped up to the omni reader and waited for a nod from the bailiff acknowledging it could be retrieved safely.

"And here, Honorable Tribunal, I believe I have found something critical," she held up the tiny chip that had been imbedded in the reader.


	23. Chapter 23

Voyager Headquarters: Tribunal Courtroom

"Mr. Drake, what is the meaning of this?" Garth bellowed. "The omni reader is to give a record of the exact circumstances of a voyage. What is this enhancement?"

Drake looked around, feeling cornered. It was unbelievable that this -- this technician – was challenging his authority.

"Professor Garth, honored members of the Tribunal, I assure you …"

"Assure us of what, Mr. Drake? Please give us an explanation for this," Garth said sternly.

"My explanation is simple: This had to be done. This work of mine will be remembered as a great effort in guaranteeing the future success of the Voyager program, and I would change none of it," Drake said. "I have removed weak links in the Voyager time stream and restored the organization to a position in which it can do the greater good."

"The greater good for whom, exactly, Mr. Drake," Garth replied. "Because I am not seeing how falsifying this record has benefitted our cause."

"You should be grateful," Drake continued, pulling at his cravat and looking around the room. "Mine has been the most vital cause …"

From the side of the room came an angry, almost tortured, voice, "Drake, what the hell have you done? He's a kid for God's sake."

Phineas Bogg raised his head, found his footing and jumped for the man. And, Wendy, who would later say it was just on instinct, threw Bogg the omni she still held in her hand. Amazingly, he caught it just as he reached Drake. And then, as Drake pushed the button on his own omni, both men disappeared from the courtroom.


	24. Chapter 24

Oct. 12, 1982, Manhattan

Jeffrey Jones awoke with a start from the dream. It had started so pleasantly, as he played the part of the brave swashbuckler. But just as in his real life, it ended up a nightmare in which he was unable to save his parents. He cried out softly as he awoke, but, unsurprisingly, the only one to notice was Ralph, his dog and his only real companion in this place.

Aunt Elizabeth and her boyfriend, Tom, continued their argument in the next room.

A whistling sound – unlike the wind he'd been hearing – caused him to look up, and he watched, shocked, as two men struggled on the ledge outside his window.

"Still dreaming, I guess," the boy thought. Nonetheless, he found himself rooting for the pirate. Either way, it couldn't end less well than his nightmare.

Bogg struggled on the ledge, as Drake worked to find his own footing and push the pirate over.

"Drake, forget it. This is ending, now," Bogg yelled, as he held to the ledge and used his momentum to kick the man, hard, in the ribs. Drake fell from the ledge, and Bogg nearly leapt to save him. The Voyager code had to mean something, after all. But Bogg's dilemma was solved as he watched Drake wink out of existence.

"Great, so he's safe, I guess," Bogg thought. "Now the kid. They told me about this kid, so I'm thinking that's at least part of why I'm here."

His position precarious, Bogg used his guidebook to slam through the large glass window. One, two, there it went. And then he pulled himself up, again using the guidebook to minimize the impact of the glass. Still some cuts and scrapes, but it might have been worse. "Much worse," he muttered. "When did they start building them this tall? That could have killed me."

Bogg turned toward a silent child with the largest brown eyes he'd ever seen, and despite the circumstances, he suddenly felt better than he had in a while. Bogg recognized Jeffrey Jones from the photos he'd seen, and it seemed sure, now that Drake wasn't going to push the kid out of a window, Bogg could expect another green light and get on his way. No matter what Lang and his team seemed to believe, and as happy as he was to see a kid, especially this one, healthy and whole, Bogg had no intention of taking on a partner.

And then, the dog came at him. It missed his arm but grabbed the guidebook in its strong jaws and held on.


	25. Chapter 25

Oct. 12, 1982, Manhattan

Bogg watched the dog. "So, he's got the book, I guess they warned me, and at least I'm not kibble," he thought. "No kids, no dogs, yeah, they completely ignore this stuff."

And then the boy grabbed the dog, "Ralph, let it go. C'mon boy." Jeffrey yelled, as he tugged at the dog.

Bogg tried to step in, holding the boy bag from a struggle with his own dog.

"Kid, it's OK. Don't worry about it. It's just a book, I can get another copy," Bogg said. Bogg was not entirely sure that was true; there was some policy on replacement guidebooks that he couldn't recall, but the situation seemed to call for calm.

"Ralph, give it up," the boy cried as he pulled at the book in the dog's mouth.

"Kid, really, it's OK. Let it go."

And as Jeffrey did, the momentum of his struggle with the dog propelled him backward through the broken window.

Phineas Bogg didn't hesitate as he jumped after the boy, and he felt a strange sense of relief as he felt his arms wrap around the child, who in turn placed his arms around Bogg's neck. "Kid, I know this sounds crazy, but it's all going to be OK. I mean it."

And with that, Bogg pushed the omni.


	26. Chapter 26

Oct. 12, 1450 B.C. Egypt

"Bat's Breath!" Bogg yelled as he pulled out of the reeds in which he'd landed. He shouldn't complain, really, the landing had been softer than many, if wet. Still, it seemed as if the omni might put him in a nice dry, safe haystack once in a while.

He stood and started to assess his surroundings. His initial thought remained the same: "Wet!"

The kid! Bogg turned to look. Jeffrey Jones looked unharmed even if his dampened hair and expression made him look like a cat thrown into the water. Maybe angrier, Bogg pondered.

"Are we alive?" the child asked.

Bogg almost wanted to laugh. "Yeah, we're alive."

Jeffrey stood up, looked around and tried to wring out his wet shirt.

"Who do you think you are? You break into my bedroom, throw me out a window, you bring me here, wherever I am …"'

"Yeah, kid, I know. You OK?"

"I guess, but who … what are you?"

"What am I? I am a Voyager. You ever hear of one," Bogg asked, with a touch of bitterness. This had been a long, oh, hell, whatever it was, it had been long.

The child nodded no in response to the question.

"Of course not, no one has. We're the people plucked out of time to travel through the ages to help history along. You know, give it a shove where it's needed."

Jeffrey Jones looked at the man incredulously, and then he heard a small sound, like a baby cooing as it played with its toes.

"You travel through time?" Jeff said, his voice rising in disbelief. "When is now, then?"

Bogg knew he had been here before, but it couldn't hurt to check. "Egypt. 1450 B.C.," he said with a definitive nod. Bogg had no intention of taking on a partner, but it couldn't hurt to see how the kid did on this assignment. He did know Jeffrey Jones was meant to be a Voyager, and they could get back to headquarters soon enough.

Jeffrey quickly found the infant.

"Where are we again?" he asked Bogg.

"Egypt. 1450 B.C." Bogg replied.

"Egypt," the boy muttered, and exclaimed, "This is Moses!"

"Moses," Bogg teased. "Moses was an old man with white whiskers, looked like Santa Claus with a part in the middle."

Jeffrey rolled his eyes and carried the cradle to the shore where he set it in the water.

"What are you doing?" Bogg asked, playing devil's advocate. "He'll drown."

"No he won't," Jeffrey replied, as he confidently pushed the reed cradle into the current. "Moses was found by Pharaoh's daughter … in the Nile." And he pointed downstream to the gilded tent.

"Oh. Hmmm. Well green light, kid. You did it."

"Green light means go, I take it," Jeffrey said, and his smile reached his eyes as he looked up at Bogg. "Where to?"

Bogg hesitated, he really should return the child to headquarters, get him a proper trainer.

But one more mission couldn't hurt, just to give him a start. "You know, Jeff, I'm not sure, just hang on," Bogg said and feeling the small hand on his arm, he hit the omni.

--30--


End file.
